Hunt The Wren
by S J Smith
Summary: Summary: Ed and Al return to Rezembool for a Solstice Tradition. Ed Al Winry interaction


Hunt The Wren

S J Smith

Rating: K +?

Word Count: 4651

Summary: "We'll hunt the wren, says Robin-a-Bobbin, We'll hunt the wren, says Richard to Robin, We'll hunt the wren says Jack-in-the-Land, We'll hunt the wren says everyone!" traditional, "Hunt the Wren"

A.N.: Hunting the wren is an actual Winter Solstice tradition. I've modified it somewhat for this story.

A.N. 2: Originally written for the EdWinry x-mas challenge, it doesn't have a lot of (a) holiday spirit or (b) Ed/Winry but I think I'm satisfied with it anyway.

Thanks to D. M. Evans for the commentary and edits.

* * *

The cold of the metal seeped through her work gloves and Winry thought that winter in Rush Valley left something to be desired. While the nights were glorious, they were also deathly cold. She wondered how her clients tolerated it. Being mostly metal, the automail ports conducted heat but they could cause frostbite if not properly taken care of and that thought bothered her. Her clients shouldn't have to suffer through the weather. Brow furrowing, she wondered if there were a way to insulate the port better but that wasn't the entire problem. A limb made of metal was always going to make its user suffer in extreme conditions. She'd seen Ed in the summer, wrapping his arm in wet towels to help diffuse the heat and in the winter, huddling near the stove or the fireplace when he didn't think anyone noticed. It couldn't help that Alphonse's armor conducted heat and cold the same way as Ed's automail. Winry didn't want to imagine how cold Ed might be, sharing a room with Alphonse on a winter night.

Mr. Garfiel's voice broke through her thoughts. "Mail call, Winry. You have a letter!"

Winry blinked in surprise, carefully releasing the tension on the hydraulic joint she was working on. "A letter?" Setting aside the joint, she removed her gloves, wincing at the bite of cool air on her fingers. She accepted the envelope from her boss, turning it over to read her name in a familiar scrawl.

"Is it a love letter?" Mr. Garfiel peered over her shoulder.

"It's from Ed." Winry used a screwdriver as a letter opener, slitting the top of the envelope. "So, doubtful. He's probably telling me that he needs oil or some extra screws."

"Oh, I hope he doesn't need extra screws." There was that little lilt to Mr. Garfiel's voice that always reminded Winry of Granny's evilest cackle.

She ignored it to unfold the page, laying the envelope absently on her worktable. The letter was brief and typical Ed; a note saying that he and Al were sorry but they wouldn't be back home for the Winter Solstice because they had a new lead on the Philosopher's Stone. Winry sighed and folded the letter again, somehow not surprised. Ed and Al had never made it home for the solstice, not since Ed became a State Alchemist. She was a little surprised that Ed remembered to send a letter this time; usually she and Granny found out simply by the brothers not showing up.

"So? What does Mr. Edward have to say for himself?" Mr. Garfiel's mouth pursed up. "A declaration of love, maybe?"

Winry gave him a flat look. "He's just letting me know he won't be home for the solstice celebration." At Mr. Garfiel's curious expression, Winry explained, "In Rezembool, we celebrate the longest night of the year with a feast. The women all cook for days so the tables are groaning with food and the men brew beer and make hard cider and mead. And everyone gathers up as much wood as we can find and we build a bonfire to last through the night." Not realizing her eyes had gone soft and distant, she wondered at the soft chuckle from her employer. "What?"

"Are you homesick, honey?" Mr. Garfiel asked gently.

"No!" Winry shook her head. "I mean, this is Rush Valley. And I'm learning so much."

Mr. Garfiel laid his hands on her shoulders. "It's all right, Winry. I don't mind if you want to go home for your celebration. It sounds like a good time and you shouldn't miss it, even if your friends can't be there with you."

A little thrill ran through her at that. "If you're sure," Winry said hesitantly. She had just taken off to go to Central with Ed and Al a few months ago and had wound up almost a hostage in that city when Ed disappeared with Major Armstrong for a couple of weeks.

"As long as you let your clients know how long you're going to be gone," Mr. Garfiel said with a pointed look. He still smarted at Tetsu's comments about his perverted expressions.

"Ah, of course," Winry said, nodding, a smile breaking over her face like the dawn. "Thank you, Mr. Garfiel. I should call Granny and let her know I'm coming, if you don't mind."

"No, no, go ahead." He waved her off, smiling as she nearly skipped out of the room. "You go make some good memories, honey." Leaning back against the table, he heard the crackle of paper and glanced down, seeing the envelope. Peeking at the doorway, Mr. Garfiel picked up the envelope, reading the return address, his eyebrows arcing in surprise. Those brothers were halfway across Amestris at this point. No wonder they said they wouldn't be returning home. Sliding the envelope into the pocket of his frilly apron, he patted it. Well, stranger things had happened, after all. Maybe there was a way to get those boys home for the holiday.

* * *

Shivering, Ed pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Damn it, why did it have to be so cold? The wind seemed to cut right through his clothes, making his automail feel like chunks of ice frozen to his body. Al walked a little behind him and to his left, trying to block as much of the wind as he could but it kept shifting, blowing first from the south and then from the southeast or southwest. His hair whipped into his eyes, making them tear and Ed cursed under his breath, swiping at his bangs with a gloved hand. "What are we doing here again, Al?" he bit out, clamping his teeth to keep them from chattering.

Alphonse somehow managed to sound just as miserable. "Freezing to death?" he asked.

"Y-yeah." Nodding, Ed snuffled hard, blinking his eyes at the flakes of snow that clustered on his eyelashes. Damn it all for Mustang sending them north. His lead to the Philosopher's Stone panned out to be nothing more than some faker with an enormous ruby. Ed couldn't wait to get back to Central and give the bastard a piece of his mind, if he didn't turn into an icicle first.

"There's the lodge," Alphonse said and Ed let out a sigh of relief. He could just make out a tendril of smoke rising from the chimney and had to force himself not to run. Walking in snow this deep wasn't easy but the thoughts of warmth tugged at him and unconsciously, he picked up speed. Al's, "Wait, Brother!" came just as Ed pitched forward, landing face first in a drift of snow.

"Jeez, Ed," Al said, hauling his frantically kicking brother out of the drift, "you know better."

Shivering, Ed wrapped his arms around his waist as Alphonse dusted him off. "I'm okay," he chattered out, the hair that had escaped his hat plastered to his face, stuck there with snow. No way in hell was he going to tell Al about the pain shooting through his automail ports. "Let's just get to the lodge."

He started off only to have Al catch his shoulders and turn him around, pointing him back down the hill. "Don't run this time," Al said chidingly and Ed nodded abruptly in response. The brothers made their way down the hill, Al following in his brother's wake despite his offer to break a path. Ed had responded vehemently to that request, saying that he could do it. Stubborness, Ed thought to himself, wasn't quite enough to keep him warm but the extra activity helped.

Stomping his boots hard on the stoop, Ed managed to knock off most of the snow and pulled open the door. Heat washed over him, a curl of warmth that made his nose thaw and drip almost immediately and with a curse, Ed swiped at it with the back of his gloved hand. Before someone could shout at him to close the door, he hurried inside, kicking off his boots as he went. Behind him, Alphonse made sure the door was tightly closed, the cold seeming to spill off his armor in waves. Quaking, Ed pulled off his dripping jacket, flinging it on a hook on his way to the stove. He hooked a chair and dragged it with him, scooting it right up next to the stove, dropping down to bask in the heat. Alphonse made his way more circumspectly around the room, settling near his brother, as if he, too, had taken a chill. Ed remembered Den laying in front of the fireplace at the Rockbell house, rolling onto her back to warm her hairless belly after being outside in the winter. If there weren't soldiers in the lodge, he thought he might try that.

As steam started rising from his snow damp clothes and the warmth started actually seeping into his joints and thawing through the icy feel of his automail, Ed let out a contented sigh, stretching limbs towards the stove. "Feels so good," he groaned, rolling his shoulders and twisting his head from side to side to hear his neck pop. His relief lasted only long enough for the bluff, hearty voice to boom across the lodge.

At the sound of his and Alphonse's full names, Ed stiffened in terror, sure that his hair stood on end. "M-Major Armstrong?" Al squeaked out before Ed even dared to turn around and suddenly, he was hoisted by an arm looped around his neck. Alphonse managed to dart beyond his own chair, hands raised in supplication, leaving Ed to be strangled.

"Elric brothers!" Armstrong said, his grip tightening on Ed's neck, making him gasp and struggle. "I have heard of your dilemma."

"Dilemma what?" Ed panted, trying to break free from the chokehold. Fighting did no good against a giant bigger even than Al.

"Your automail!" Armstrong dropped Ed without warning, the shock landing Ed on his backside, his head thumping against the floor. "Oh, I've broken your automail. This must be repaired!" Armstrong grabbed Ed's shoulders, hauling him up again as Ed gaped at Alphonse.

"Now wait a minute," Ed began only to have Armstrong spin him around and march him towards the door.

"Get your jacket, Edward," Armstrong said and, swearing not quite under his breath, Ed gathered his jacket and shrugged back into it. Whatever the major had up his enormous sleeve, it was going to involve a trip to Rezembool.

Stopping still, Ed's eyes widened. Rezembool. Oh, hell. He whirled on the Major who took the opportunity to fuss with Ed's jacket, just like he was a little kid. Ed smacked at the huge hands. "I've been assigned here, Major," he hissed.

"Ah, but Colonel Mustang said if you needed repairs, you should return to Rezembool immediately," Armstrong said, reaching for his own jacket, a thing that looked big enough for Ed to use as a tent and maybe have enough left over to slipcover Al. "And I've broken your automail." His voice thundered loud enough to knock snow off the roof. "We must make haste, if we're to reach the train station before the next snowstorm." So saying, he tucked Ed, kicking and struggling uselessly, under one arm, grabbed Alphonse by the shoulder and kicked open the door, hauling the brothers back out into the snow. "Say farewell," he boomed, the icicles clinging to the eaves of the lodge shuddering off to crash into the snow.

"This is kidnapping!" Ed said or attempted to say through Armstrong's long scarf smacking him in the face. He could just hear Alphonse's cheerful, "It'll be nice to be home for the solstice," over the whistle of the wind and resigned himself to another unnecessary journey to Rezembool. Wincing, he realized something else. "Oh, hell. We're going to need presents!"

* * *

The day of the solstice dawned crisp and cold, the sun a pale lemon disk in the sky. Winry woke early, shivering at the chill air that made her want to do nothing more than curl up even more tightly in her bed, in her warm sheets and blankets but there was too much to do. Bracing herself, she threw back the covers, and swung out of the bed, her bare feet dancing across the floor to the closet. Winry chose her clothes with an eye towards warmth, hauling on trousers and a sweater with a matching pair of thick socks that Gracia had sent her for her birthday. Her hair crackled with static electricity as Winry brushed it. Strands clung to her fingers when she attempted to put her hair up to keep it out of her way. The blue sparks bit at her fingers and Winry made a face at the reflected sight of her hair standing on end. Forcing it under a semblance of control, she braided it tightly and, grabbing her shoes, started out of her room.

The sound of voices stopped her from her usual attempt at shoving her feet in her shoes as she went down the stairs. Eyebrows climbing into her bangs, Winry sucked in a breath, recognizing the sound of the protest, even if she couldn't make out the words. "Oh, he'd better not have broken anything," she growled.

Coming into the kitchen in a rush, Winry caught at the doorjamb, surprised to see Major Armstrong taking up a good quarter of the kitchen. It wasn't just his sheer size but the apron he wore, dusted with flour and cinnamon and little appliquéd snowflakes. Alphonse wasn't much better; the sifter in his huge gauntlets sending up a cloud that explained the flour on Major Armstrong. Al noticed her first, the light in the eyeholes of his helmet seeming to gleam in delight. "Good morning, Winry!"

"Al? Major Armstrong?" Winry sagged against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?"

"Making cookies." Major Armstrong flourished a rolling pin like a sword. "This is a special recipe, handed down the Armstrong family tree for generations."

"We sent Ed to get some wood for the fire later," Alphonse told her, scandalized, "he was trying to eat the cookie dough out of the bowl."

"Sounds like your brother." Winry jumped at the sound of her grandmother's voice behind her. Pinako still wore a robe, her usual ponytail loosened and falling around her shoulders. Pushing her way past Winry, the old woman said, "Don't just stand there, girl, we need to start making breakfast."

Gathering what remained of her wits, Winry trailed into the kitchen. Scrabbling in the ice box, she pulled out a slab of bacon, cutting thick strips that she set in a skillet to fry. Pinako busied herself with making toast, commenting that they'd need to get more eggs from the Nedobecks if the Major planned on making any more cookies. "Not to mention, we need spices for my mulled cider," Pinako said, a smug tilt to her lips.

"Granny's cider's known throughout Rezembool," Al told Major Armstrong seriously.

Winry agreed. "She makes two kinds. Al and Ed and I got into the wrong batch once and got really sick."

Pinako snorted in response. "Those kids were sick for days," she told Major Armstrong. "You'd think they'd have learned their lesson, too, but Ed went back the next year."

"I forgot that," Alphonse said, his hollow voice sounding surprised. "He did, didn't he?"

"He wanted us to be his lookouts," Winry remembered with a shake of her head.

"Hmph." Pinako blew out through her nose. "That boy is too much trouble." She turned sideways so Armstrong could load another tray of cookies into the oven.

The door opened and Den ran inside, bringing the chill of the morning with her. Edward called after the dog, "Something smells good."

"Get in here, shrimp, your breakfast is ready," Pinako hollered back.

"Who are you calling a shrimp, you midget?" Ed yelled, stomping into the kitchen, snowflakes dusting his shoulders and hair.

"At your age, I was nearly twice your height," Pinako said, giving him an obvious once over.

"When you were my age, dinosaurs still roamed," Ed sneered back, flinging himself into a chair.

"Edward Elric, that is not the proper way to speak to your elders," Major Armstrong said, making Ed duck reflexively from the waving rolling pin.

"I'm accustomed to it, Major," Pinako said dryly. "If he greeted me with a hug, I'd figure one of us was dying." Before Ed could make a retort, she nodded towards the clock. "If you kids are going to join the hunt, you'd better hurry."

"Aw, jeez," Alphonse said, scooting out, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste.

Ed's scowl deepened. "The hunt? That's kiddy stuff." He rocked the chair onto its back legs, teetering recklessly.

"It is not, Brother." Al's helmet seemed to frown. He buttered the toast and helped Winry make sandwiches out of the bacon. "It's tradition."

"Pfft, whatever," Ed lolled in his chair. "I'm not going."

The silence in the room at that statement was the type that usually heralded an explosion. Pinako glanced casually from the skillet of bacon toward her granddaughter and Alphonse, her gaze slowly swinging to Edward. Major Armstrong's moustache quivered. And as if he realized that his words set it in motion, Ed opened his mouth to apologize when Winry whirled on him, grabbing him by the ear and hauling him out of his chair. "You are so going!" she shouted, "And don't say it's something little kids do because there are people old as Granny who still hunt. So get off your butt and eat your sandwich!" She shoved the bread into his gaping mouth.

"You'd better do what she says, Brother," Al managed to get out amidst giggles as Winry seemed all too ready to grab Ed's jaw and force him to chew.

"And you're going to make me a new bow, too, since you broke my last one!" Winry tugged harder at Ed's ear, half lifting him out of the chair.

"Iff diff noff!" Ed yelled around his sandwich, batting at her hands in an attempt to free himself. The scramble to escape the kitchen and Winry's wrath sent Ed through the door, sandwich still clamped in his teeth.

Winry and Alphonse chased after, with Pinako following more sedately. "Come along, Major," she said, "you don't want to miss this."

Den raced in circles around her people, barking as she ran. Ed chomped down most of his sandwich before tossing the crusts to Den, who snapped them up and looked for more. "Dumb dog," he said affectionately, rubbing her head.

"Bows," Winry reminded him imperiously and he winced, grumbling.

"Hey, Al, help me see if any of those logs are dry enough." He beckoned as he started for the pile built up next to the house, curing.

"I don't understand," Major Armstrong said, watching the boys as they dug through the wood. Winry joined them but stayed far enough back that any beetles or mice or flying bark wouldn't reach her. "What is this hunt?"

Pinako busied herself with her pipe as she replied. "An old tradition, older maybe than Amestris." She raised her eyes to Armstrong. "It's a fairy tale nowadays but maybe it has its basis in truth." Lighting her pipe, she sucked on it to start the dottle burning. A fragrant cloud drifted around her as she said, "On midwinter day, the Oak King and the Holly King fight over who will rule the woods. Like all good warriors, they send out their scouts before the fight – the robin and the wren. Because the Oak King is destined to win the fight at midwinter, we hunt the wren. Whoever finds the wren gets to ask the Oak King for a solstice present." Pinako puffed at her pipe, her smile becoming full of memories that made her eyes glitter wickedly. "At the summer solstice, we do other things."

"I see," Armstrong said as Ed loudly proclaimed one of the logs was both sound and dry enough. He clapped his hands together and created a bow, arching up out of the wood. Armstrong could just make out a grinning mouth and horns before Ed snatched it up, brandishing it with a flourish.

Winry made a face in response and Al, giving the impression of rolling his eyes, said, "Brother, Winry needs a prettier bow than that."

"What's wrong with it?" Ed scrutinized it with a judicious eye. "It's a great bow."

"Not for Winry, it isn't." Al clapped his hands and made a second bow, this one long and sleek, suited for his height. "Make one for her."

Mumbling, Ed thrust his bow at Winry, who took it gingerly. "This thing looks like it's going to bite, Ed." She ticked a fingernail against the face.

"There's nothing wrong with my bow," he groused, clapping his hands together. The final bow rose from the diminishing log, a graceful arc adorned with holly leaves and mistletoe.

"Much better," Winry said, trading Ed his bow for hers. She rubbed her fingers over the surface, still warm from the alchemy and smooth as if polished with beeswax. "Thank you, Ed."

He nodded once, abruptly and turned to Pinako and Armstrong. "Hey, Granny, do you want a bow or are you just going to sit at the fire and sample the hard cider?"

"Hunting's a youngster's sport. Drinking," Pinako grinned broadly around the stem of her pipe, "that's for us old folks."

"You aren't old, Granny," Alphonse protested.

"Old enough that traipsing around in the cold woods doesn't sound like too much fun." Pinako gestured with her pipe. "That's more of a kid thing. Besides, Major Armstrong can catch me up on all the happenings in Central."

"And you can drink hard cider without worrying about getting lost in the woods," Ed said slyly.

"You're going to be late," Pinako warned him, "with those little legs of yours, you'll have to have Al carry you to get you to the hunt on time."

Al and Winry prudently grabbed Ed by the arms and hauled him down the path that led to town, swearing and flailing.

* * *

The trees overhead made lace of the ice blue sky as the trio walked through the woods. Ed shook his head, hearing some little kids squeal off in the distance. If they were really hunting, those kids would've scared off the prey. Giving himself a mental slap, Ed glanced down at his brilliant red jacket. He wasn't about to mention the huge suit of armor clanking along the path nor Winry's orange hat with the pompom on top of it. As if she felt his stare, Winry glanced over her shoulder, giving him a happy grin. "What?" he barked, hoping his face hadn't lit up as red as it felt.

Her smile broadened and she shook her head. "Nothing." Winry dodged a low hanging branch with snow dusting the top of it. "I'm just glad that Major Armstrong broke your automail so you guys could be here today."

She really could be cute, Ed thought, when she wasn't yelling or throwing wrenches or worried about him and Al. "We didn't exactly have a choice," he muttered, missing the way Winry's face fell as he twisted the bow in his hands.

They crested a small hill, Ed pausing to look out over the countryside, the sheep in the lower pastures, kids and adults appearing and disappearing in the copse of trees. Fat snowflakes drifted down from the lowering skies. Ed could hear someone singing about hunting the wren and other voices joined in, the melody weaving through the woods. Al stepped into the lead, joining the song, the words echoing around the empty armor. Ed's shoulders slumped slightly at the sound of it.

Winry stopped next to him briefly, tilting her head back to let the snow fall onto her face. "It's almost a new year," she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah." Ed stabbed the end of his bow into the snow at his feet. "Another year I haven't got Al his body back." His jaw tightened and he turned slightly away from Winry only to feel the warmth of her hand on his back, her arm looping around his shoulders in a brief embrace.

Before he could dare face her, Winry said, "You'll find a way, Ed. I have faith in you." With that, she released Ed to follow Alphonse back into the trees.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth and, taking a deep breath, Ed jogged after them, shouting for them to wait up. He skidded on some leaves, flinging his arms out to try to regain his balance, and slammed into Alphonse's back. The dull boom seemed to echo around the trees and Ed, arms windmilling, fell backwards onto the ground.

"Brother!" Alphonse said and "Ed, are you all right?" Winry asked, both of them leaning over him.

Swearing, Ed tossed away the bits of his broken bow as he sat up. "I'm fine," he grumbled, rubbing his nose cautiously. It didn't feel like it was broken but damn, it hurt.

Alphonse reached down and froze in that position, piping out, "Brother, Winry, look!" He pointed beyond Ed, who turned to see at a brightly painted bird, dangling from a tree limb. "It's the wren!"

"Congratulations, Al," Winry said, bending over to offer Ed her hand. He almost hesitated taking it but slapped his automail palm into hers, his flesh palm landing in Al's rough gauntlet and they hauled him to his feet, their enthusiasm sending him sailing into them both.

"Oh, hell," Ed groaned, his ears ringing from the second boom of Al's armor, his nose buried in something warm and sweet-smelling, like lilacs. His eyes snapped open, realizing he'd sandwiched Winry partially between him and Al. Her face brightening to pink, Winry stared back at him, her gaze softening suddenly in a way that Ed thought was very telling, if he could only figure out why. With a sound like a growl, Ed stepped back, finding he couldn't go far. Glancing down, his eyes caught on Winry's hand, still linked with his and jerked his head back up. Ed could swear Al's eye slots were twinkling. Twitching his shoulders, Ed grumbled, "Are you gonna get the bird, or what?"

"Sure," Alphonse said, moving around them enthusiastically. "But I might need some help if you're done holding Winry's hand, Brother."

Winry's, "Al!" rang through the trees, making his little brother laugh. Ed could feel his own face heating up as Winry tugged him along behind her, wondering at the thumping in his chest as they caught up to Al, standing beneath a huge chestnut tree.

"I've never found the wren before," Al said, excitement coloring his voice. He pointed at the brightly painted bird, hanging from a branch. "This is so cool."

Winry halted next to Alphonse, cupping her hands around her eyes to see the bird better. Ed shoved his hands in his pockets, the watch case clacking under his fingers, telling himself that really, Winry holding his hand that long didn't mean anything. Did it? Her question brought him back to the present. "What are you going to ask the Oak King for, Al?"

Ed opened his mouth to say that wishes weren't true and no god was going to give Al what he really wanted but before he could, Al scooped Winry up in his arms, balancing her so she could reach the wren. She tugged it free from the string holding it on the tree and Al set her back down. Winry beamed at him, offering him the wooden bird and for an instant, as their hands met, Ed swore he didn't see a suit of armor harboring his brother's soul but a boy with sandy hair, laughing with their best friend.

- end -


End file.
